


The Revisionist's Work

by Katflap (Batman_in_Lingerie)



Series: Devils [1]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics), Justice League & Justice League Unlimited (Cartoons), Justice League - All Media Types, Superman - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Companionable Snark, Dialogue Heavy, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Masturbation, Sexual Humor, Suit Porn, assholes in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-01
Updated: 2019-09-01
Packaged: 2020-10-05 02:41:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20481515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Batman_in_Lingerie/pseuds/Katflap
Summary: Bruce hosts a Halloween party for the Justice League.It goes about as well as to be expected.





	The Revisionist's Work

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everybody! I know! Another story, what is going on?? I literally wrote this over the weekend in a daze. The words kept pouring so I just kept on going until we ended up here! 
> 
> I’m just gonna warn everyone straight up, this fic is verging on the edge of being a crack fic, but it's mostly due to me having the worst sense of humour possible rather than it being downright absurd. I just want people to be prepared before they go into this thinking it's gonna be super serious. It is not. Like at all. It is however the most fun I have had writing something in a l o n g time. I hope you can all appreciate it for what it is, which is a bit of raunchy, sexy, fun, complete with terrible jokes. 
> 
> A fun little game we can all play for this fic is to say what your favorite line was. I’ll let you know what mine was at the end notes.
> 
> ENJOY! :D

“And who exactly are you supposed to be?”

Clark held the beer he had been drinking by his mouth for a moment, sending Hal an inquisitive look as he gestured down at himself. "I am Isaac Asimov, obviously."

Hal rolled his eyes. "Of course. Trust you to pick the single most obscure costume here. Lemme guess, Bruce is gonna be Bram Stoker?”

Clark pursed his lips as he looked around the sea of people all dressed in varying degrees of festivity, before looking down at his own suit. With his free hand he touched his sideburns. "Hey, gimme a break. I was on a budget." 

Hal himself was wearing a naval uniform, complete with a series of medals across his lapel. All of which looked like they were made of bottle caps and tape. Hal brought his hand up to rub his temple. "You are bangin' a billionaire, dude." He said blandly.

"I’m failing to see your point." Clark said with the barest hint of a smile. “Besides, I’m rather proud of my costume, and even if I’d have used Bruce’s money, all I’d have done is buy better sideburns.” 

Hal only let out a sigh. "Whatever." He held up his hands in defeat. "All I’ll say is good luck, because I can predict all of your future conversations will be going the same way as this one.” 

Clark was about to ask what he meant, but sure enough as Hal stepped back Barry was already there in the empty space, dressed as the duracell bunny. "Cool suit Clark! Who are you supposed to be?" Hal didn't say anything more, but he did wave his hands in a flourish as he left the pair. 

Clark turned his attention to the other, keeping his face impressively blank. "I'm ‘me with sideburns’, Barry. Thought it was pretty obvious."

Barry had an impressive ability to not let his confusion show so obviously, but it still had a habit of lingering on the surface of his face, creating a wash of expression that could only be described as meek acceptance. "Oh." He said after a moment. "Cool."

After a moment. “Nah, I'm just messing with you. I'm Isaac Asimov.”

  
  
“Oh!” Barry said, his excitement palpable before it quickly died back down to that subtle blend of confusion. “Who’s Isaac Asimov?”

  
  
“Only the greatest science fiction writer of all time.” Clark said with a proud nod. “The man was a legend. I hoped to honor him with this costume, but I bare only a poor imitation of the true majesty that were his sideburns.”

Barry grinned. “I don’t know, man, those are pretty cool sideburns.”

  
“Compared to his? No.” Clark said in all seriousness, leaning in close to Barry. “Mine are _ trash _. Not even worthy of bearing the name. I should hang myself for even thinking I could compare to him. It’s just not possible.” 

Barry’s lip bobbed for a moment as though he were processing an attempt to respond to Clark but before he could voice it, Clark was already resting his hand on Barry shoulder. “It’s good seeing you, Barry.” He said softly as he stepped away towards the canape table, a smile fighting at his lips. 

Barry did not try and follow him. 

Bruce had laid on more than a healthy sized spread for the amount of people present. There was enough food to keep Clark nibbling for the foreseeable future and that was just what he was doing as he waited for Bruce to come downstairs. 

Trust Bruce to be late to his own party. He had mentioned to Clark that he would join him after the party had started, as he still had to get dressed after sorting out the finishing touches to the manor. So Clark was left to greet and schmooze everyone as they entered. Clark wanted to know what exactly Bruce could be dressing as that required an extra hour to get ready, but he knew he’d find out soon enough.

Hal could very well be correct in his guess for Bruce's costume. Clark himself had no idea what he was going as, having been kept completely in the dark throughout all of Bruce’s preparations. He had hopes of what it would be but he got the feeling Bruce wouldn't be strutting in as a french maid or a sexy nurse anytime soon. 

He had to take a deep breath as he let that mental image roll through him. No harm in a brief train of thought, he told himself, but God forbid he let it ride rampant through his mind. Not only would it have more than a _ slight _ effect on his body, but he was also in the worst company for those types of errant thoughts. He could see J'onn across the room talking with Ollie and didn't need to mentally scar the man any further than he was sure he had in their years of friendship. 

He picked up another another canape, eating it and trying to keep his mind off the image of Bruce humming to himself as he made them. He closed his eyes and took another breath, he had to get his mind back on-

Too late. Both trains of thought had already collided and before he knew it, there was Bruce, clear as day in his mind's eye, preparing an endless stream of baked goods, wearing the sluttiest maid outfit possible.

Clark nearly choked on his asparagus spear. 

It was as he took a long swig of his beer, hoping to purge all evidence of that mental image's existence that he heard footsteps behind him. “Great costume, Herr Asimov.”

  
  
Clark turned to the voice and grinned as Dinah approached. “You got it.” 

She returned the smile and waved her cigar at him as she spoke. “Well I mean, you have all the trademarks, suit, glasses, sideburns. Asimov through and through.”

  
  
Somewhere, somehow, Clark knew Hal was experiencing a sudden burst of pain in his temple, and Clark couldn't help the thrill of pride he felt. He ran his hand across the side of his face bashfully. “Why, thank you.”

  
“Now.” Dinah said bringing the other hand that held a glass of wine to her lips and taking a swig. “Do me.”

Clark looked at her, squinting in mock examination as he rubbed his fingers on his chin. “Suit. Circle glasses. Cigar. Poor excuse of a German accent.” He let out a laugh as Dinah puffed at the cigar in her hand. “My my, I had no idea I would meet such an esteemed psychologist at this party.” He held out his hand. “Mr Freud, it is an honor.” 

Dinah quickly shoved the cigar between her lips and brought her hand to meet Clark’s. “The pleasure is all mine.” She said, though due to the cigar it sounded so garbled that Clark could barely make out anything aside from the general sentiment. After he shook her hand, she reached for the cigar, pulling it free and smiling up at Clark. “Well done, Ollie thought I was sexy Teddy Roosevelt.” 

Clark scoffed. “As if Teddy Roosevelt was not already a sex God.”

  
  
Dinah threw out her hands, the wine perilously swishing around, but thankfully staying put inside. “I know! He was a beast of a man, if anything I'm ‘the _ not _ sexy Teddy Roosevelt.’ Ollie doesn't know shit.”

  
  
“You know what that means, right?” Clark said with a serious nod. “That's your costume now. Anything else would be an insult to the memory of the sex God that was Teddy Roosevelt.”

  
  
“Damn it, you're right.” Dinah said, setting her wine down with finality. “No more of this baby’s first grape juice. What would Teddy drink?”

  
  
“Freedom.” Clark said, his facade slowly chipping as a giggle started to work its way up his throat. “And eagle tears.” 

Dinah however seemed to be very close behind and before long she let out a long series of laughs that Clark couldn’t help but share in. Clark didn't know how much time had passed with them both shaking through fits of laughter at the buffet table, but he did know his cheeks were starting to hurt and Dinah was grasping at her stomach. “Okay. Okay, enough of the sex God talk.” She wiped her hand over her eyes. “Jesus Christ…”

  
  
“What's so funny?” Ollie asked as he approached, an eyebrow raised in the general direction of the pair. Dinah however was still recovering, taking deep breaths as she steadied herself on the table, so Clark spoke for her.

  
  
“Ollie, quick question. Would you bang Teddy Roosevelt?”

  
  
That did it. Ollie let out an indignant puff of air, and Dinah fell into another fit of laughter. Ollie’s face transformed as it parsed the words that had come out of Clark’s lips, eventually settling on a stern look of exasperation. He sighed. “Take it Dinah told you I didn't get her costume right.”

  
  
“She did.” Clark said, with a quick nod. “That still doesn't answer my question, though.”

  
  
Ollie raised a brow. “I mean.” Perhaps it was the mood that Ollie stumbled into when he walked over here, or perhaps it was seeing Dinah crumbling over herself next to him in a puddle of giggles, but he sent Clark a wry smile. “Fuck yeah, man. Guy’s an American hero, I’d take it from him any day.”

  
  
“Oh my, _ God _ .” Dinah all but shouted. “ _ Stop _.” 

“What's wrong, babe?” Ollie asked, his own laugh joining the mix that was going on around him. “Not enjoying the image of me being railed by the 26th president of the United States?” 

Dinah had stopped making noise, her body however, wracked with what Clark could only assume was an influx of laughter too great that it could only be expressed in total silence. 

They watched her dealing with this silent battle for what felt like minutes, but was most likely closer to 15 seconds if the average time it took Clark to eat a smoked salmon blini was anything to go by; he had just finished swallowing by the time Dinah’s head shot up, her mascara smudged. “Thanks for that guys, it's not like I needed by stomach muscles anymore.” She said as she rubbed her sides with a wince.

Clark reached for another blini. “Don't mention it, it was my pleasure.”

  
Ollie sent her a nod. “Ditto.” 

She rolled her eyes, but batted her hand on Ollie's front. “As much fun as this has been, I was thinking we could go somewhere more private, Mr 'would totally get railed by the 26th president if he could.'”

  
  
Ollie sent a wild look to Clark who only returned it with a mild shrug. “Hey, if Bruce didn’t want his friends to bang during parties he shouldn’t have so many rooms for it to happen in.”

  
  
“Exactly!” Dinah said, slapping her hand on Ollie's chest. “Now come on, Friar Tuck, I wanna Friar f-”

  
  
Ollie made a face, smothering his hand against Dinah's lips. “Okay you randy ole demon, but you _ cannot _call me that when we do it.”

  
  
Clark laughed. “Is _ that _what your costume is?” He eyed the brown material that bagged at Ollie’s midsection, held up with nothing more than a thin piece of rope.

Ollie puffed out his chest. “Yeah, spent like, what, 5 minutes on it? And look, it’s getting my wife all hot and bothered, so, I think we know who’s winning, ‘hairy Atticus Finch’.”

Clark was mildly impressed. “That wasn’t what I was going for, but I’ll take it.” He took a sip from his beer, raising it to the pair as they made their way out of the room, towards one of Wayne manors many other rooms ideal for the form of liaising they were intending. 

Clark poured over the room, watching all the guests as they spoke with one another, but just as Ollie and Dinah had left a new figure entered and if Clark had been a dog, he's sure his tail would have wagged. “Bruce!” He said far too brightly. He quickly tried to school himself as the man approached. What helped however was seeing that Bruce was wearing one of his suits and nothing more. ‘_ You knew he wasn't going to be a french maid, you idiot _ .” A part of him said. ‘ _ Still doesn't mean I can't be disappointed _.’ The other part replied. 

However, he didn't need to say anything, as Hal was already making his way over, Barry tucked in by his side. “Okay, now I know for a fact you didn’t even try with your costume.”

Bruce raised a brow at him. “How so?”

  
  
Hal gestured up and down Bruce's body. “You're just wearing a suit.”

  
Bruce nodded once, pressing his lips together as he held his arms wide as though for inspection. “Exactly.” He waited a moment, as though waiting for someone to jump in with understanding. When he received none, he rolled his eyes. “I'm Jay Gastby.” 

Hal clenched his jaw and Clark could almost hear the strain of the muscle as he did. “Oh God, you both are so lame.” Hal threw up his hands. “I didn't realise we were doing book themed costumes, should I have come dressed up as Huckleberry Finn?”

  
  
“Finn would have been a far more individual and unique choice than whatever it was you were going for.” Bruce said, tilting his head. “A navy captain? Really? Did you get it at Target too?”

Hal narrowed his eyes. “Walmart.” He mumbled. “But I made the badges myself.” 

Clark mumbled a quiet ‘I knew it’ but otherwise didn't try to disrupt whatever was going on between the two men before him. A part of him was just curious to see what would happen, the other part was just wanted an excuse to stare at Bruce a little while longer.

  
  
Perhaps it was knowing that a full on sparring match at the party was not something that would go over well, Bruce spoke, his teeth still pressed firmly together as he did. “The badges look passable.”

  
Hal returned the nod. “That suit doesn't look like total shit.”

The two kept their stares on one another and it was only when Barry began tugging on Hal’s arm to go get another drink that Hal gave up on whatever battle they had been waging. Bruce had an air of triumph as he turned to face Clark, ignoring the glare he received from the retreating form of Hal as he did so. “How's the party going?” He said instead, adjusting his bowtie.

  
  
“Great.” Clark said with a bob of the head. “Dinah and Ollie are banging somewhere, and I've eaten an entire plate of your salmon blinis.”

  
Bruce's lips pressed into a thin line. “Did they let you know where, or am I going to have to live in fear of coming across Ollie’s jizz soaked underwear as I clean the manor, again?”

Clark didn't make a point of eavesdropping on friends, especially when he knew what they were getting up to. Looking at Bruce’s face however, told him what he had to do. He tuned into the downright pornographioc sounds coming from the bellow and sent a look to Bruce, trying his best to tune them back out again. “Cellar.”

Bruce rolled his eyes. “If they break anything down there…” he said under his breath, but Clark could practically hear how empty of a threat it was. In fact, Clark was certain that an entire wine wrack could shatter and all Bruce would offer in response would be a beleaguered sigh as he went to get the wet and dry vac. 

“On the plus side it means Ollie’s gonna be out of action for a while.”

Bruce gave a small smile at that. “That is true.”

  
  
“Yes, it is.” Clark said, jutting his beer to Bruce. “ _ And _ he’s gonna have to deal with a damp dick for the rest of the evening.”

  
  
Bruce huffed as he came in close to Clark. “You always know the worst things to say.”

Clark grinned. “It's a talent.”

  
  
“I’ll say.” He kissed Clark very chastely on the lips. Affection in front of the League was only something recent in the grand tale that was their relationship, and yet Clark got the feeling that he would never lose the excitement he got from Bruce even looking at him fondly in front of other people. “So, can I guess who you’re dressed as?”

  
  
“Go for it.” Clark said as he held up his arms. “What are you thinking?”

  
  
“Well, Hal said we’re both book themed.” Bruce looked at Clark closely, his hands coming up to touch at the edge of the now starting to peel of sideburn. “For the sake of us then being able to say we’re doing a couples costume, I’m going to go with Nick Carraway.” 

“What?” Clark said with a laugh. “Nick doesn't have sideburns.”

  
  
“He doesn't not _ not _ have sideburns.” 

Clark rolled his eyes. “Besides, Nick and Jay aren't a couple.”

“In my revised edition they are.” Bruce said resolutely.

  
“Maybe I need to read this revised edition.” Clark nodded solemnly.

“I think you do...” Bruce was close to him again, but where they were at the edge of the room, and with the low lights and quiet humming of music, it felt like they were worlds away. Clark tried to keep his wits about him, but Bruce had a habit of taking every scrap of Clark’s attention whenever he was around. So he let himself fall in close to Bruce, his head resting on his shoulder as he felt himself sway to what little he could hear of the music.

  
  
“This is nice.”

  
  
“What, talking about literary characters having homoerotic relations?”

Clark let out a small snort of a breath. “I mean _ this _. Being together. At a party.” Clark pulled back, trying in vain to not get unhinged by Bruce’s unrelenting attention on him. “It almost feels normal.”

Bruce made a face, but didn't outwardly try to rebuke Clark. At least, not for a few moments. “Yes, normalcy is not something we usually deal with.”

  
  
“I know.” Clark said softly. “Which is why it's nice to have it sometimes. I get the feeling you agree with me, or why else would you host these parties every holiday season?”

  
“Because I am quite literally Jay Gatsby.” Bruce said, his honesty so apparent it took Clark a minute to process it.

  
Clark opened his mouth to quip back. Something about ‘of course you’re him, you're rich and reclusive’. But that wasn't it, he could see in Bruce's face it wasn’t it and he felt himself frown. “What do you mean by that?”

  
  
“I mean,” Bruce said, pulling back further from Clark, perhaps in an attempt to assert some form of significance to what he was saying, though it only made Clark feel cold at the sudden loss of Bruce pressed against him. “I hold lavish parties in the vain attempt of catching the attention of an idiot who I can’t help but love.”

Clark frowned, looking around the room as though seeing it for the first time. Slowly but surely his eyes grew wide. Thanksgiving. Christmas. Valentines. Easter. 4th of July and now Halloween. Party after party, every holiday without fail, and Clark would always go. “Are you trying to tell me, you started throwing these parties because…?” but he didn't finish, he didn't think he was even able to if he tried.

  
“Because I was trying to make you realise I was in love with you, yes.” Bruce did it for him, in as succinct a manner as possible, of course. 

“Then why…” He breathed in deep. “Why keep holding them, you already have me, Bruce.” 

Bruce however only raised a brow. “Why would I stop doing it when I get to see you enjoying your evening of normalcy?”

Clark knew his cheeks were on fire, could feel it in the way they were prickling. He cleared his throat, and went to take a sip from his bottle only to find it empty. His instead ran his finger over the lip of it, looking everywhere but at Bruce. “Thank you, for that.”

“Don't mention it.” Bruce said with a shrug. “I do it for myself just as much as for you, for one thing we have the best sex after these parties.”

Clark swatted at his chest. “_ Bruce _.” 

“What? It’s true. You remember Christmas? I thought I was going to die.” Bruce remarked, taking Clark’s hand in his own and running his thumb across the knuckles. “It's even better when I have time to plan something. Like tonight.”

  
“Oh?” This peaked Clark’s interest and all embarrassment was quickly forgotten as he leaned in closer to Bruce, his voice a breath against his ear. “Care to tell me?”

  
Bruce turned his head by a fraction, and the faint touch of his breath breezed right against Clark’s ear and may as well have traveled to his groin for how much it affected Clark. He opened his mouth and Clark bit his lip in anticipation. “ _ No. _” Was all he said.

Clark pulled back, his face thoroughly unimpressed. “Bruce.” 

But Bruce was laughing, a gentle sound that you could quite easily miss if you weren't paying attention. Clark however was, so got to see it all of its glory, complete with the dimpled cheeks. Clark’s mouth went dry, he lifted his beer up again, but before he could have it collide with his lips, Bruce was easing it out his hand with a tut. “Maybe we should get you another one?”

Clark only nodded as Bruce walked across the room to where the drinks were. He was soon stopped on his journey by Micheal and Ted and Clark would have joined them, if only to help ease Bruce though whatever conversation they were currently trying to engage in, but he didn't want to. He instead made a beeline to the only other person off by themselves. “Diana.”

  
By themselves may have been a lie. Diana was currently sat down with Ace beside her, his head resting on her lap. She stroked his ear as she sipped her wine. She sent Clark a nod as he approached. “Kal. I was wondering when I would be able to get a better look at what you were wearing.” 

“It's the latest fashion don't you know. Straight from Paris.” He twirled to give her the full view and didn't miss her smile as a result. After a moment he crouched down beside the sofa to give Ace a few scratches on his own. He huffed, but otherwise made no objections to Clark’s attention. “Enjoying the party?”

  
  
“Indeed.” She said, setting her wine down and letting her hand rest across the plush sofa. “I mean, I was, before I sat down to retie my sandals and was then acquiesced to be a makeshift cushion for a certain someone.” She however didn’t look mad, continuing to stroke Ace.

Clark smiled. “Well I would tell him to get off you but I get the feeling I’d be giving more than one set of puppy eyes.”

  
“That you would.” she said. “He's quiet pleasant company. He is also keeping those less desirable from bothering me.” 

“Hey guys.” Michael said with a grin, as Bruce and Ted stepped in beside him, one looking far less happy with the arrangement than the other. Ace sent a low growl at the new additions and almost immediately Michael stepped back. “Uh.”

Bruce however eyed the dog with a stare so cold Clark could still feel it despite only catching its periphery. “_ No _.” 

Ace set his head back down glumly. Diana made a face as he stared up at Bruce. “I was quite enjoying the peace and quiet he provided, actually.”

“Well too bad.” He said haughtily. “Only _ I _ get to have him growl at undesirables, you’ll just have to deal with them yourself.” 

“Hey.” Michael said as he looked at them both. “What's this about undesirables?”

  
  
“Nothing Michael.” They both said together with mechanical symmetry.

  
He only sighed. “Whatever, we actually came over to guess what your costume is Diana. Me and Ted are making a game of it, I’m winning 3-2.” He said the last part with a grin.

  
“Only because you heard Clark say he was Isaac Asimov, you would _ never _ have gotten it otherwise.” Ted said with a roll of the eyes.

  
“Actually Teddy, I’ll have you know I got it because I am an avid reader of his work.”

  
  
“Name _ one _of his books.”

  
  
Michael was silent for a moment. “So! I’ll go first. You are-” he squinted at Diana, ignoring the death glare being sent his way from Ted. “The Statue of Liberty.”

  
  
Ted’s anger was soon forgotten as he blew a raspberry at Michael. “Really? She isn't even wearing a crown. Is that really going to be your answer?”

  
  
Micheal nodded resolutely. “Yup.” He turned to him. “You?”

  
  
Ted crossed his arms, examining Diana thoughtfully as he looked her up and down. Finally he opened his mouth. “Sappho of Lesbos.” 

It was Michael’s turn to laugh. “Really? _ That’s _ what you're-”

  
  
“Correct.” Diana said as he saluted her glass to Ted. “Well done.”

  
  
“Wait what?” Michael eyed them both, his head fluttering to and fro between them. “You guys are just messing with me, what the Hell.”

  
  
“It’s Diana, of course she’d dress as the greatest lesbian poet of all time.” Ted was shaking his head. “No, it was the only possibility. You’re just an idiot for not getting it.”

“Impressive.” Clark said. “Looks like you're all squared up. Who’s gonna be the tie breaker?”

  
  
“Were thinking J’onn. He keeps transforming his costume every 10 minutes so were just waiting for it to be something we may actually have a shot at getting.”

  
  
Bruce turned away from them, his attention now on the man across the room, eyeing him up and down. “You should go now, it’s something Ted would definitely get.”

  
  
“What, no.” Michael said sharply. “That’s not fair.”

  
  
“Says the cheater. Come on Michael, it's time for me to win this.” He said with a grin as he all but dragged Micheal away across the room.

Clark watched them walk away. “Who is he at the moment?”

  
  
“No idea.” Bruce said with a shrug. “I just didn't want them here anymore.”

  
  
Diana huffed a laugh. “Good work.” 

Clark rolled his eyes. “Such the gracious host. What's next? Gonna tell everyone to be out of here by 10 o’clock or you'll release the hounds?”

  
  
Bruce made a face that told Clark everything he needed to know, and Clark couldn’t help the strained sigh he made as a result. “You _ actually _ thought about that, didn't you?”

Bruce only shrugged. “Well… I only have _ one _ hound so the practical applications are somewhat limited.”

“I think it could work.” Diana said, sipping her wine thoughtfully.

Clark pursed his lips. “You do realise you would be included in the group of guests being chased out or…?”

She only shrugged. “It would give me a reason to leave, so I can't complain.”

  
Clark shook his head. “You two are as bad as each other.”

  
  
“It has taken him how many years to realise this?” Diana asked as she looked to Bruce.

  
  
“What can I say? He's a slow learner.” He said blandly.

  
“Hey.” Clark huffed. “You know what, if you guys are gonna be snarky assholes, I’m going to go mingle.”

“No, wait.” Bruce said as he reached for Clark and stopping him completely with nothing more than the barest touch on his shoulder. “We need to go to our room.”

  
  
“What, why?” Clark said, looking around at the room still full of guests.

  
  
“My surprise for you is chafing.” Bruce said crisply before turning his attention to Diana. “Enjoy the rest of the party, can I trust you to kick everyone out if we don't come back down stairs?”

  
  
She shrugged. “Sure, I'll sic Ace on them. Have fun.” 

Clark however was blushing bright crimson as he sputtered at Bruce. “You are_ not _suggesting what I think you’re suggesting.”

  
  
“Why?” Bruce whined. “Are you telling me everyone else gets to fuck at my parties, _ apart _ from me. How is that fair?” 

Clark brought his hands together in front of his face and took a deep breath. “_ Bruce _.”

  
“No seriously, how is that fair?” Bruce crossed his arms. “Ted and Micheal are definitely going to go at in the guest bedroom once they finish their little game, Barry has been trailing after Hal all evening dropping hints he is open to something and Ollie is currently balls deep in Dinah, so tell me Clark, why can’t we join the merriment?”

Clark however couldn't speak, choosing instead to look at Diana, who only returned his expression with barely concealed amusement. “He has a point.”

“Also. _ Chafing _.” Bruce said, his eyes narrowing by the barest margin. “The longer we delay this, the worse it's going to get, so let's go.” Bruce stepped away, before realising Clark wasn't following so he turned back and clapped his hand. “Let’s go.”

  
  
Ace’s head shot up but Bruce only sent him a withering look. “Not you, _ that _idiot.” He said pointing at Clark, before clapping his hands again. “Come on.”

“You are really selling this to me, Bruce.” Clark said, mimicking the deadpan tone he knew Bruce had perfected over the years. 

Bruce’s face changed at that, going from it’s somewhat neutral setting to something that could be described as sorrowful if Clark didn’t know it was Bruce flagrantly _ lying _. “Do you want me to beg?” Bruce asked, cocking his head to the side, his eyebrows pulling together. “Is that what you want? Me on my knees begging for you to-”

  
  
“ _ No _!” Clark cried out. “Stop being weird, okay? I’ll come with you.” He sent an apologetic look to Diana. “I really am sorry about him.”

  
  
She however only smiled at them both. “No need for apologies, I was being thoroughly entertained. “ She held her glass out to them. “I repeat my earlier statement; have fun.”

So Clark did as was requested of him, following after Bruce dutifully as they made their way out of the party and up the stairs. Sure enough as the reached the top of the landing, they caught sight of Micheal being pulled into a room before the door slammed shut behind him. Clark could already sense the expression on Bruce’s face, so he returned the look of pride with a sigh.

  
“Yup, you were correct Bruce. They’re gonna bang, and when they do _ you _ will be the one cleaning up another pair of jizz stained underwear.” He pressed his lips together. “You are definitely the winner in this situation.”

Nothing however could dampen Bruce's mood when he was correct about something, so he only sent Clark a bright smile. “If Barry and Hal end up doing it, I win the whole thing.”

  
  
“What thing?” Clark said with a laugh.

  
“I don’t know.” Bruce said firmly, marching forward. “But i'll win it.” 

Clark rolled his eyes, but didn't comment further until they hit their bedroom door. Thankfully there were no other guests using their room for extracurricular festivities, so they went inside, leaving Clark to shut the door as Bruce sighed, already working off his bowtie. “This has been one of the worst ideas I think I’ve had in recent memory.”

  
  
“The suit?” Clark said crossing his arms and leaning against the door. “I don't know about that, you look good.” 

But Bruce was shaking his head. “No you idiot, your surprise. I thought it wouldn't be so bad but-” Clark was starting to see it, the sweat on Bruce's brow and he had to marvel at how well he was holding himself together downstairs, with Clark of course, there was no need to keep up appearances, allowing Clark to watch as Bruce tugging at his clothes with a force that most would not likely use on designer items.

He was also allowed to stare at what was being revealed to him slowly but surely as Bruce removed each piece of clothing. The small voice in his mind returned to him and brightly announced the image that was currently plaguing Clark’s consciousness. ‘_ Thong. Thong. Thong.’ _ But no. As more clothing was pulled away, all Clark could see was a black bodysuit, covering the entirely of Bruce's body. ‘ _ You knew he wasn't going to be wearing a thong, you idiot _.’

‘_ Still doesn't mean I can't be disappointed _.’ He thought back

“Tada.” Bruce said as he very unceremoniously adjusted himself in front of Clark before letting out a sigh that was full of nothing but relief. “Well, what do you think?”

  
  
Clark wanted to say he was flattered as he knew he should be if Bruce was subjecting his nether regions to such discomfort for his own benefit, but he was still struggling to see just how _this_ was his surprise. So he only grumbled under his breath. “I thought it would be a thong.”

Bruce rolled his eyes. “A thong? Really?” Bruce set his hands onto his hips. “I can wear a thong any day, this however is a very special treat that you don't seem to be appreciating.”

“I guess I just don't know what i'm meant to be _ appreciating. _” Clark said honestly, stepping forward. “It looks like your under armour.”

  
  
“That's because it _ is _ my under armour.” He said intensely.

Clark only felt his confusion rise. “Okay, so then why-”

  
  
“Let me explain.” Bruce said, setting his hands on Clark’s chest. “This is a prototype I have been working on for my new armour and it’s terrible.” 

“Right.” Clark said with a nod. “So again, I will repeat myself, why-”

  
  
Bruce let out a long breath and Clark could feel Bruce's hands ball into fists against his chest. “Think for a minute, you legendarily beautiful moron, _ look at it _.” 

So Clark did, stepping back and looking at Bruce thoroughly up and down, it didn't take him long to see what Bruce was referring to. “Oh.” He said, his cheeks growing pink. “I can…” his voice trailed off.

Bruce however only smiled. “It is not breathable in the slightest, and I am boiling alive, but _ look _.” He trailed his hand down to his crotch, and this time when he adjusted himself Clark could see the outline of his cock pressing against its surface. “It’s so tight.” He practically whispered, “It took me an hour just to get it on. It’s comprised of of several layers, but one is a non-newtonian fluid, great for combat, but trying to get it on and off in a hurry is a nightmare. Body heat keeps the layer fluid for the most part, but friction or blunt force?” Bruce sighed. “That's not even going into the numerous other problems but-”

  
  
“But.” Clark said, swallowing the saliva in his throat. “You said its tight?”

  
Bruce was smiling up at him. “Very.”

“So can you feel…” He was stepping forward, his hand moving of its own volition at it trailed the outline of Bruce's cock. Bruce let out a breath as he rocked into the touch and Clark was left to try and regain his composure. “Wow.” 

  
“Now do you see why this is your surprise?” Bruce said lifting his arms over Clark’s shoulders and pulling their lips together briefly, Clark couldn’t help but chase after them as they were taken away from him again.

  
“Yeah, I do. I am the luckiest guy in the world.” Clark brought his hands to Bruce's cheeks and squeeze them tight, relishing the soft hiss Bruce made as a result. “There is a small problem I am noticing however, Bruce.”

  
  
“What's that?” He asked, his voice still as light as a breeze.

  
  
“You didn't put any zippers here.” Clark said, trailing his hand along the cleft of Bruce’s ass.

  
“It’s a prototype, Clark.” He said rolling his eyes. “I didn't make it with the express purpose of getting fucked in it.”

  
  
Clark only shrugged his shoulders. “The thing is, you said it took you an hour to get into it, right?”

  
  
“Yes.” Bruce said sharply.

  
“So, stands to reason it will take you an hour to get it off again?”

  
  
Bruce opened his mouth, but quickly snapped it shut. “I-”

  
  
“So, you will most likely be remaining in this thing for the duration of whatever it is we will be getting up to, correct?”

  
  
“Well-”

  
  
“So, how am I meant to do anything to you when I can't reach certain parts of your body?” Clark was relishing this more than he'd care to admit, watching Bruce's expression crumple into one of beleaguered resentments was chicken soup for his soul. “I mean, me?” Clark said pulling back and going to work taking off his tie. “I am free as can be, I can get off no problem, you?” Clark tugged his lip to one side. “I'll give you 50/50 odds.” 

  
“Oh no, you _ will _ be getting me off, or I will never speak to you again.” 

  
“This is getting better and better every minute.” Clark said brightly as he threw his tie to the side. “Want to throw anything else in there to sweeten the pot?” 

Bruce however only crossed his arms. “_ Clark _.”

  
“Okay, okay.” Clark held up his hands. “We can just rub against each other like horny teenagers. That's fine with me, too.” He shirked off his shirt and threw it to join the pile of clothes already there.

  
  
“But.” Bruce grumbled, and Clark could see the pinkness on his cheeks. “I can’t feel much in this thing.”

  
“How much is not much?” Clark asked as stepped forward.

  
“I can feel your hand on me, but it's not the same as it being _ on _ me.” Bruce said reaching for Clark again. “The same as it being _ in _ me.”

Clark nodded resolutely, his mind already whirling with all the ideas those words caused. “I see only one course of action, then.”

  
  
“And that is?”

  
“This is a prototype right?”

  
“Yes, your point-”

  
But Clark was already reaching past to where his ass lay waiting, he pressed against the taut material which he knew covered his prize. He bore his finger down against it, and could feel the material strain around him, knew that if this were a bullet or any normal human, the fabric would hold strong. He however was neither of those things and with a loud pop, Clark pressed through, coming to contact with Bruce’s skin, sweaty and damp. He grinned. “Jackpot.”

  
  
Bruce’s eyes shot wide. “You broke-” but Clark dug his finger further forward, finding the area of Bruce he had become very well acquainted with over the months. “ _ Oh. _” Bruce stopped whatever tangent he had been about to unleash onto Clark, and pressed up against him almost instantly, and Clark being the generous man he was, held his thigh out for Bruce to rub up into as he did. “Oh, Clark.”

  
  
“I know, I’m a genius.” He said, his finger still trailing the ring of muscle on Bruce. He pulled it out quickly as he tilted his head to the bed. “Now, let's get this show on the road.” 

Bruce stepped to the edge of the bed, setting himself down and when Clark went to join, Bruce's hands reached up for him and Clark let them. He expected a kiss, a gentle caress. He was not however prepared for his sideburns to be ripped off of him with brutal and efficient accuracy. “Ow.” He said, more for the sake of it.

“If you ever grow sideburns, I'm leaving you.” 

Clark opened his mouth to respond, but looking down at Bruce’s flushed face and taught body meant he was capable of nothing other than agreement. “Okay.”

With Bruce placated, he leant over, kissing Bruce as he made a start at the taking off his slacks. Bruce thankfully was just as keen to get Clark’s dick involved as he was, so before long he was free from all clothes, unlike someone else. 

Clark wondered how comfortable it must be inside the suit. He will admit he was taking some sweet vindictive pleasure from it all, but he was also being comforted by the knowledge that he could tell when Bruce was ‘uncomfortable’ and ‘unbearably uncomfortable’, and right now, he was still firmly in category one. He didn’t know how long he’d last before he did breach into category two, but Clark knew he could help delay the transition by addressing the thing currently pressed up tightly against Bruce’s thigh. Clark brought his finger back to it, trailing it up and down. “That feel good?”

  
  
Bruce closed his eyes. “ _ Yes _. But you need to be firmer though, I can't-” He hissed

  
  
Clark pursed his lips. “ _ You _ can't maybe, but _ I _can very easily.” He kept his finger at that same gentle pressure, reaching the tip of Bruce's head and pressing the barest of fractions harder. “You were the idiot that got into this thing.”

  
  
Bruce's eyes shot open. “For _ you _, you idiot.”

  
  
“I’d have been happy with a thong.” Clark said, holding up his hand, which, much to Bruce's dismay, meant it was no longer paying attention to a certain part of him. “ _ You _were the one who got into a barely functional prototype.” 

  
“It _ is _functional.” Bruce said, crossing his arms. “This is just not one of the functions I had planned for.”

  
  
“Even so.” Clark said, bringing his finger back though keeping it just on the inside of Bruce's thigh. “How did you plan on using the bathroom in that thing? Even if you weren’t anticipating sex, you do still pee, don't you Bruce?” 

Bruce's face was bright red. “Stop talking.”

  
  
Clark conceded. “Alright. Alright. You are a flawless being incapable of making mistakes…” He bent over, bringing his mouth to the outline of Bruce's cock and sucking the edge of it up to the tip in quick bursts. “Better?”

“Better.” Bruce said, bringing his hand to Clark’s head and stroking his hair whilst not too subtly attempting to push Clark back down onto his cock. “You can keep going though.”

“Oh sure, you are amazing, you make my heart soar with your mere presence, you-”

  
  
“You know what I meant, you ingrate.” Bruce was now making no attempt to be subtle. “If you're not going to deal with my dick can you at least do something with the glory hole you fabricated?”

  
“Oh yeah.” Clark said, bringing his other hand to Bruce's ass and easily finding the tear there. “Forgot about that.”

  
  
“Idiot.” But there was no malice there, only quiet affection and Clark grinned into Bruce’s thigh before he went about kissing his trapped cock. 

  
Without lube, he could do little more than press his finger against Bruce’s hole, but thankfully his sweat was providing a little lubrication, though not enough for Clark to feel comfortable finger fucking him with, but enough to keep Bruce from hitting him. He eventually conceded he needed to stop and grab something to make things easier, but when Bruce got like this, Clark was well aware that attempts to stop were met with the petulant whining of a rich boy who wasn’t used to being told no. 

“_ No _.” Bruce said, keeping his hands on Clark’s head when he felt him start to rise from him.

  
“Bruce.” Clark said into his cock, because Bruce wasn’t letting him move anywhere else. “I need the lube to-” 

“Just shove it in.” 

Clark rolled his eyes though he knew Bruce couldn’t see it. “I'm not shoving my fingers into you dry, for one thing it will hurt, and another thing, you will never let me hear the end of it.”

  
  
“No, that's not true.” Bruce was downright shoving Clark back onto his cock and in between speaking Clark had no choice but to run his tongue along its length to keep him placated. Bruce heaved a sigh as Clark's tongue worked. “I’m telling you, you can do it, I'm letting you, this is me giving you consent to do it.”

Clark finally had enough and pulled away with far more strength than a normal human would possess but seeing Bruce's darkened expression told him that_ that _ was the only reason he was able to pull away in the first place. “I'll be one second.” Clark said as he slipped from him, Bruce sat there, not even attempting to hide the thunderous look he held as Clark went to open the bedside cabinet.

  
The lube was not there.

  
  
“Uh.” Clark said, momentarily lost. “Where is-”

  
  
“ _ What _.” Bruce practically barked he watched Clark falter, he crawled over to where he stood, peering into the drawer himself. “Where is it?”

  
  
“I don't get it, it was here this morning when I-” but Clark quickly snapped his mouth shut. Whilst Bruce never said he _ couldn’t _masturbate, he could always feel Bruce's withering expression trained on him when he mentioned it. “When I was cleaning the drawer.” He finished lamely.

  
  
“Of course, it must have just magicked itself away.” Bruce said crossing his arms. “Looks like we have no choice. Guess you're rawing me.”

  
  
“ _ Bruce _.” Clark said with a sigh. “I'm not going in dry, i’ll get the bottle from the bathroom.”

  
  
“It’s not there, we ran out of it, remember?” Bruce's eyes narrowed. “You were the one who used an entire handful when you jerked-”

  
  
“Okay.” Clark held up his hands. “I don't need you judging me about my happy time.” 

“This should be your ‘happy time’, and instead it's becoming ‘a very no good bad time’. You’re just being selfish. Raw me you coward.”

“I’m being selfish? Have you even _ looked _ at my dick since we started this? Do you even remember what it looks like? Describe it from memory, right now.” 

Bruce however only heaved a sigh so long and loud that Clark just held up his hand in defeat. “Fine whatever, the fact is we must have another bottle somewhere around here.” Clark said, folding his arms together, his mind trying to retrace his steps from earlier this morning. “But that's just it, it _ was _ here, I know it was, so someone…” but he didn't finish that thought. He did however turn around and walk away from Bruce.

  
“Where are you going?” Bruce called after him, making no attempt to follow. “Clark!” 

Clark was well aware he was still naked, well aware anyone could see him, but he didn't care in that moment as he marched across the hall and banged his hand against the door.

  
“Open up.” 

  
“Uh.” Came Michael’s voice, breathy and strained. “Can you give us a minute?”

  
  
“ _ No _.” Clark said, crossing his arms. “You know damn well why I’m here, so just open up.” 

“We’re not decent.” Came Ted's voice next, and Clark only rolled his eyes.

  
  
“And I'm standing here with and erection, buck naked, but I wouldn’t have to be here right now if you didn't take something from mine and Bruce's bedroom.” Clark pressed up close to the door, speaking sharply. “So open up.”

“Oh shit.” There was a clattering from inside and before long the door opened by a fraction, and before he spoke Michael’s eyes were inevitably drawn to Clark’s very prominent erection. “I’m _ so _ sorry.” He said as he handed over the bottle and Clark grabbed at it.

  
  
“You do that again.” He said, his voice airing just on this side of too much. “I’m just ripping open the door and taking it.”

Micheal only nodded. “Got it.” He muttered, as he closed the door, though not before his eyes flicked to Clark’s cock again. If Clark didn't have super hearing, he wouldn't have heard his breathy remark about it being ‘bigger than he thought.’ Clark however was just happy he had found his prize. As he made his way back to the bedroom, he held the bottle aloft as he did. “Found it.”

  
  
But Bruce was unable to see his victory pose as he was currently face down in the bed, spread out like a starfish, his head buried into the pillow. “I don't care. I'm horny and you left me.”

Clark shook his head. “Bruce, how many times do I have to say it, you do not want me rawing you.”

  
“How do you know?” Bruce said into the pillow. “It could have been great.”

  
  
“Well now I have _ this _ .” He said jiggling the bottle in his hand. “So it's gonna start feeling a lot _ more _ great.” He was back on the bed, bringing his hand to Bruce’s cheeks, rubbing the material there. 

  
“Get on with it then, I want to come, you asshat.” Bruce muttered into the pillow as he jutted his ass up form the mattress.

  
Clark uncapped the bottle and put a sizable dollop into his palm. “How was I so lucky to find someone as eloquent and graceful as you, Bruce?”

“Quit being a smartass.” Bruce said, this time turning his head from the mattress and glaring at Clark.

  
  
“I learnt it from the best.” Clark said as he rubbed his fingers together before going back to the tear he had made, slipping a finger in and this time when he found that circle of muscle, he pushed it as deep as he could with his finger.

The groan Bruce made went straight to his own cock, and Clark brought his hand to wrap around himself. “No fair.” Was Bruce's mumbled response.

  
  
“How?” 

“I can’t touch mine, so you can’t yours.”

  
  
Clark tilted his head in thought. “No, I don't think that’s how that works.” 

“Okay fine, just touch mine.”

  
  
“And _ I’m _ the selfish one.” Clark said gruffly as he started to work his finger deep into Bruce, curling as he pulled it out, before sending it back in with another. Bruce tensed around him, his moans growing louder. “Now tell me, do you think this would feel anywhere near as good without lube?”

  
  
“Yes Clark, you're a genius, you are a gift from the heavens itself, now fuck me, fuck me _ now _.” 

Clark however couldn't help but laugh. “You are so impatient it's actually remarkable.”

  
“I am _ very _ patient.” Bruce said as he turned back to Clark pointedly. “An hour Clark, an hour to get into this thing and the entire time I kept thinking about what we would be doing in it. Do you have any idea how hard it was to shove my erection into it?”

  
  
Clark’s lips pulled at the side. “No, but I can imagine.” He curled his fingers where he knew Bruce would feel it and sure enough he let out a long series of expletives. “Now now Mr. Pottymouth, none of that language, please.” 

“I'm going to kill you.” Bruce said with the utmost sincerity.

  
“I love you too.” Clark replied.

  
“I mean it, when you fall asleep tonight I'm going to garrote you.” 

“I can’t wait.” Clark said as he brought his other hand underneath Bruce and trailed it against his cock, as he rubbed it he could feel how easily it was sliding underneath the surface. Whether from sweat or precum, Clark couldn't tell, but all he did know was that as he pressed and rubbed it Bruce began humping his hand in earnest. The words coming out of his mouth a series of sentences that Clark couldn’t actually make any sense of.

  
  
“Sorry, I didn’t catch that.”

  
  
But Bruce was up, and Clark fingers came free as he did. But he wasn’t without contact for long as Bruce all but threw himself onto his hips, brushing himself against Clark’s erection. He hissed at the contact but Bruce’s mouth was back on him, with no attempts at what one would call a gentle kiss anywhere insight. No, it was teeth and saliva, and after a minute he pulled back, his eyes frantic as he looked at Clark. “We need to fuck now before I do something stupid.” 

“But I love it when you do something stupid. It’s the highlight of my day.” 

“I mean it, when you were gone I nearly shoved the curtain pole up there.”

Clark’s eyes blew wide. “Wow.” He laughed. “Now that I would like to see.” 

“_ Stop _." Bruce was holding his face in front of him, leaving Clark no choice but to stare right back into those grey calculating eyes. “I’m going to die.”

  
  
“Bit dramatic.” Clark said, kneading Bruce's cheeks with his hands. With a low whine Bruce rocked up against him. He brought one hand away from the cheek and found Bruce’s hole again, his fingers going back to work.

  
“I'm being deadly serious.” Bruce ground out. “I can't-” but he didn't go on, letting his head fall onto Clark with a damp thud. 

He could feel how hot he was getting, his forehead searing itself into Clark’s neck. His skin was radiating with heat, and Clark didn't need much more convincing to see this was Bruce’s very dramatic way of saying he was stepping into category two. “Alright, lay back.”

Bruce looked at him, the patheticness of his expression not lost on Clark as he fell back onto the mattress in a heap. Clark brought his other hand to the hole, and started to tear at it. Bruce gasped at first, but Clark was being careful to not tug too hard anywhere that would lead to splitting Bruce in more ways than the one he was intending for the evening. Eventually he made the hole bigger and brought it to the front of Bruce, letting Clark see a part of him that had almost been forgotten. “Why hello there.” He said as he poked Bruce on the head, and laughed when he yelped.

  
“ _ Stop it. _”

Clark did as was told, rolling back onto his haunches and holding his hands up.

Bruce made a growling sound as he reached down himself and tried to tug at the material. What became apparent very quickly was that Bruce did not in fact bare superhuman strength like Clark did, meaning his tugging was about as effective as using a pair of scissors to cut through steel plates. After a few attempts he fell back again, his eyes burning into Clark with their intensity. “_ Clark. _” He whined. 

Clark couldn't deny Bruce, especially when he looked as thoroughly debauched as he did in that very moment. He moved forward again, finding the edges and tugging them apart, working up bit by bit until he got to Bruce's chest and ripped it long and slow until it broke apart at Bruce’s collar. Almost instantly Bruce was trying to take it off, but the material started to hold firm and he let out another whine. Clark swatted at his hands. “Stop touching it.” 

Bruce reluctantly did as he was told, allowing Clark to continue his task of peeling Bruce. Eventually he tore seams along all of his limbs and with a little care, Clark was able to extract Bruce from the Hell he had been suffering inside of for the past few hours. “You are so wet it’s not even funny.” Bruce practically slid in his arms, and the suit bore even more evidence of this phenomenon with how it was already puddling with pockets of sweat as it lay in a heap on the bed.

  
  
“What part of me saying I was boiling alive did you not understand?” Bruce said, but whatever tone he was trying to go for was lost, as all Clark could hear in his words was an unimaginable amount of relief. “I am _ never _ doing that again.”

  
  
“Oh, I mean, never say never. Just maybe next time we can go down the more conventional route of latex? Just an idea.” 

Bruce pulled back then, bringing his hand to card through Clark’s hair. “Just kiss me.”

  
  
Clark didn’t need to be convinced, and fell forward eagerly, sweeping the mass of useless material to the side of the bed before pressing Bruce down into the mattress. “ _ Fuck. _” Bruce said as he ground himself up into Clark. “I forgot how good that felt.”

  
  
“If you thought that was good…” Clark said as he attempted to reach for the bottle of lube. “You are in for a treat.”

  
  
Bruce however was already back in his grabby phase and was keeping Clark right where he was. “No, don't need it.”

Clark however didn't argue this time. He supposed what he used on Bruce earlier would help keep things from getting too painful, and Clark himself was already going dizzy with his own arousal. He had been so focused on Bruce, he hardly paid his own dick any mind, and now he was reaping the full effects of it as he mindlessly went about shoving it into Bruce, a quiet grunt being Bruce’s only warning that it was about to happen.

Thankfully Bruce had the sense to stop himself from tensing as Clark bore into him, he did let out a growl of a breath, but it was interlaced with quiet repetitions of ‘_ yes _’. Clark kept going and going until he was fully inside, relishing the feeling of Bruce, savouring the warmth. “I forgot how good you feel.” Clark said in a breath as he started lapping at Bruce’s neck, allowing him a moment of respite before the main event.

  
  
“I suppose you’re sufficient.” Bruce said.

  
  
Well, the moment of respite was fun while it lasted, but Clark quickly felt whatever guilt he had for Bruce evaporate as he spoke and after a second he began his thrusting in earnest. Bruce made a quiet yelp when Clark pulled back and lifted Bruce’s hips higher, hoping to get deeper, but also knowing it had the added benefit or tickling Bruce _ just _ so. “Clark, Jesus, _ yes _.” 

  
“Still just ‘sufficient’?” Clark asked, pulling one of Bruce’s legs up a little more and angling to the side and grinning as Bruce’s eyes snapped shut, his hands nearly ripping the sheets under them from how hard he tugged.

  
“No. So good. So _ so _ good. Clark, please. _ Please _ . Fuck harder, _ yes _.” Bruce was entering the incoherent speech stage fully and Clark allowed himself to get lost in the downright filthy sea of words Bruce was spouting. 

He was close and watching Bruce scrambling for him, let him know he wasn't the only one, he reached between Bruce and gripped him fully, running his hand up and down the length with the same pace he was using, up and down, in and out, it was almost hypnotizing to watch and Clark's eyes were trained on Bruce’s cock right up until the moment he came. 

Cum shot up and hit him in the chest and the noise Bruce produced as it did was not even human. It had more in common with a fox’s mating cry than anything that he had known humans could produce. 

Clark kept on pumping Bruce, slowing his own pace, but keeping his hand there on his cock, milking it until it started to grow limp in his hand. Eventually he pulled out and Bruce made a sound which Clark hoped was of satisfaction, because the fact still remained he was painfully hard. “Bruce.” He said as he poked the man's thigh.

  
  
“Hum?” Bruce said, not opening his eyes.

  
  
“I'm still hard.” 

Bruce didn't respond, so Clark poked him harder. Bruce opened one eye and looked at him. “Do you want a written apology or..?” 

Clark rolled his eyes. “Your mouth or hand would be great actually.”

Bruce looked like he was about to fight it, but perhaps remembering Clark had literally saved him from boiling alive earlier that evening made him slightly more charitable than he usually was post orgasm. It was part of the reason Clark tried to hurry himself along before he actually got to the fucking. He didn't really have that option this time however. “Come here.” Was all Bruce said as he patted the empty space of mattress next to him and Clark crawled up to it on his knees.

  
Slowly, because Bruce was tired and Clark could see that if he had his own way he'd be sleeping already, he brought Clark’s cock to his lips, taking it all in until Clark’s own hair obscured Bruce's face from him. He ran his tongue slowly across it, before he pulled back, allowing the barest hint of teeth to graze along the surface. Clark hissed out a breath. “ _ So _ good.” He said as he reached for Bruce's head and tried to ease him back on.

Bruce slapped his hand away. “Do you mind?” 

Clark pulled his hands back and held them up. “Sorry, go ahead.”

“Now I don’t want to.” Bruce said with a pout, but Clark could see the mischievous glint in his eyes.

  
  
“Bruce.” Clark pressed his hands together. “I will make you breakfast everyday for the rest of your life if you would please just keep sucking my cock.”

Bruce had one hand on Clark, and ran his fingers along his length in thought as he made a show of contemplating what Clark had offered him. It took a lot for Clark to not just grab that hand and ram against him, but he schooled himself, letting Bruce have fun at his expense. Considering how much Clark had had from Bruce’s, it seemed only fair.

  
  
“How about you stop masturbating for the next month instead?” Bruce said with an innocent quirk of the brow and Clark balked.

  
“Uh, let’s maybe not go that far, how about I limit it? Once a day, for like a week tops.”

  
  
Bruce resolved didn't falter. “How many times do you do it a day, Clark?” 

Clark realised the trap he had walked himself into and had no idea how to get back out of it. “Like the normal amount.” He said gingerly as he stared down at Bruce’s fingers on him. “Now if you just grip me a _little_ tighter…”

  
“Yeah yeah, I’ll get to that.” Bruce said as he waved his other hand. “But lets go back to the part about how many times you touch your cock in a day, I'm going to need an estimated figure.”

  
“Like.” Clark made a face. “Three, four, I don't know Bruce.”

  
  
“Okay.” Bruce said, leaning forward, breathing on the hot skin of Clark’s cock and his legs nearly buckled under him. “I will put your cock in my _ hot _ , _ wet _, mouth if you promise not to come for the next week.”

  
Clark was well aware of the fact that he was promising something impossible, but he had the feeling Bruce could have asked him to turn water into wine and he still would have blindly agreed to it to get his mouth back on him. “Yes. Okay, yes, just please Bruce. _ Come on _.” 

Bruce sent him a teasing smile before he opened his lips and took Clark inside again, this time sucking his cheeks in hard as he pulled back and forth across his length.

  
He didn't last long after that, he grabbed Bruce’s head and this time Bruce didn’t try to hit him. He brought Bruce back and forth brusquely before keeping him burrowed deep against him as Clark came down his throat, he let out a low groan as Bruce took it all, not so much as flinching when it happened. When he pulled back however he sucked in a long breath of air, wiping his mouth as he grinned up at Clark. “I hope that was worth it.”

  
  
“I do too.” Clark said as he fell onto the mattress too. “Only sex for a week, I don't think you realise how pent up i’m gonna be.” 

Bruce looked at him, quirking his brow. “What do you mean?” He rolled over, resting his hands on Clark’s chest. “I said you weren't allowed to 'come' Clark, that means no sex either.”

  
  
“Wait.” Clark’s mind blanked. “What?”

Bruce's look of joy would have been beautiful if Clark didn't know it was caused by his own misery. “Oh you poor poor, idiot. You have no idea what you're in for, do you?” 

“I know I’m already regretting this decision.” Clark said slowly as he looked up at the ceiling.

Bruce gave him a sly smile as he came forward and kissed Clark gently on the lips. “_ Good _.”

“You vindictive bastard.” Clark muttered under his breath.

  
Bruce’s smile only grew. “Please, go on, this is only making things better for yourself. Trust me.”

Clark snapped his lips shut and kept his stare to the ceiling. “Fine. You win this round, I’ll get you back.”

  
“Speaking of winning.” Bruce said, looking at Clark intently. “Barry and Hal, are they?”

He thought about lying, but Bruce was so good at reading his tells that he knew that wasn’t going to work. “They're in your study.” 

“Ha.” Bruce said with a smile. “I win.”

“Yes Bruce, you win. How will you celebrate? By destroying my hopes and dreams as well?”

“No. I think your misery is enough of a reward.” Bruce said as he slid off the bed and went to his pile of clothes, sifting through it and finding his phone in the mess of fabrics. He pressed a few buttons before going back onto the bed and laying beside Clark. “Good night.”

  
“What about everyone? Shouldn't we…” He rolled his hand. In a way he was silently hoping Diana would usher everyone out for them, but knowing his luck she was asleep on the couch with Ace.

  
“Don't need to, they're already heading out.” Bruce said, finding his spot against Clark’s neck and closing his eyes.

  
“How? You message them or something?”

  
“No.” Bruce said with a yawn. “I sent out a code red League warning, the space station has been hit with an asteroid.”

  
“Wait, what?” Clark rocketed up and turned to Bruce. “We need to go-”

  
  
But one look at Bruce told Clark that there was no asteroid and his mouth fell open. “You did not.”

  
  
“No, I did.” In lieu of Clark, Bruce pulled his pillow under his cheek and burrowed into it. “Good night, Clark.” 

  
When he focused, Clark could hear the flurried rush of steps going on underneath them, the doors opening with loud bangs as well as the sound of hurried movement as people left the manor. Clark wanted to laugh, so he did. 

He fell back into the bed and brought Bruce in close. “You are such an asshole.” 

  
“Love you too.” He muttered as he snuggled in close to Clark.

Clark drifted off to sleep, and thankfully Bruce didn’t attempt to garrote him in the night.

He did however try to smother him with a pillow. 

**Author's Note:**

> Ahhh! I hope you all enjoyed that. As I said already, this was so much fun to write, but I totally understand if it wasn't everyone's cup of tea, I just hope in that case you found some small piece of enjoyment from it <3
> 
> I am tempted to write a sequel fic about Clark coping with Bruce's 'promise', but we shall have to see ;D 
> 
> For those curious my favourite line was: 'But Bruce was unable to see his victory pose as he was currently face down in the bed, spread out like a starfish, his head buried into the pillow. “I don't care. I'm horny and you left me.”' I'm not gonna lie, I have a lot of favourites but that one just tickles me so as I sit here and imagine it.
> 
> As always be sure to comment and Kudos! I love hearing your thoughts on my work, and it always motivates me to keep going!


End file.
